The first time Crane saw you, it was through broken light and motion, something feral moving too fast to be human. His grip tightened on his weapon, pulse roaring in his ears. This had to be the Beast. The thing everyone was hunting.

Then you turned.

Your eyes burned with the same wrong shine he’d seen in his own reflection. Your stance was defensive, aggressive, like an animal cornered too many times.

When another infected lunged from the dark, you tore into it with brutal efficiency… too controlled to be mindless, too vicious to be normal. Crane watched, stunned, as you stood there afterward, chest heaving, jaw set, barely holding yourself together.

He lowered his weapon slowly.

You weren’t the monster they were looking for. You were like him.